(slight warning for some mentions of gore/organs but very very minor)
**********
“Katya, Katya listen to me, dammit! You know what happens to you if you do this.” Goncharov’s eyes were tethered to Katya’s, never breaking focus, not even to look at the pistol in her shaking grip. “This won’t save Sofia. You don’t understand.”
Katya tightened her already white knuckles around her weapon, only a twitch away from guts on the wall and blood on her hands. “You don’t say a word about her. You leave her out of this, you bastard.”
Goncharov leaned back against the desk, the sharp wooden edge of it pressing into his skin. “Put the gun down, Katya. We can talk about this. Sofia doesn’t have to die.”
“Neither does Andrey.”
The air froze, still as a rock, dead as a fool.
Dead as Goncharov if he made the wrong move.
OR
A slight turn of events from the original plot, where Katya's love for Sofia runs everything into the ground, and Sofia's best kept secret is revealed.
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1.1k words
Teen and Up Audiences
No archive warnings apply
Read tags before reading fic if you worry you may be somewhat sensitive :)
Well, I finished my goncharov fic. I hope you guys like it!!
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Okay, here's a fic pitch:
SCP-2747 exists, so did Goncharov.
Therefore we lost Goncharov to SCP-2747 by speaking about it on tumblr, thus triggering the anafabula phenomenon ( go read SCP-2747 before proceeding, else you wont get it)
It is technically our fault, but we want none of that, so we do our bullshit to make the movie technically back into the real world, but then the Anafabula erases it back because we hyped it.
And here goes the endless attrition fight where we always end up with creating yet another Theseus Ship-ey Goncharov fan restoration that will probably be erased just like the previous one, with only our speculations and posts about the movie being kept.
This could end up in a grim tone, with us growing thinner and thinner in the face of Entropy, until WE are the Forgotten Ones.
Or in a more positive, yet bittersweet, tone where we never stop the fighting because we were in this and this is a message about how death of the author and fandom taking over is just ok and we'll never live it down this way
...
Oor... The even worse ending where a smug four eyed hoe (me) made THIS VERY POST which is TECHNICALLY a report about a narrative: the one where tumblr makes performance for Goncharov's cycle of death and rebirth
And this narrative technically revolves around some other narrative that will never be completed
In all and all: that bitch doomed the goncharov fandom to the anafabula.
You may also realize that since the "original" Goncharov wasn't a metanarrarive with the specific themes that would trigger the 2747, it was just a true non-existent movie we all fantasized too hard about and we would get the comeuppance of our greed through either The Cycle or by just ending up being erased by the very thing we thought erased our cherished movie...
(disclaimer from reality: I love you folks, this is just me going bold with experimental narratives, by no mean I want any of you to disappear,,,,,,,,)
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I'm thinking. I'm thinking, I'm thinking, I'm thinking, I'm thinking - Goncharov Coffee Shop AU, except Andrey is broke, Goncharov is a true pain in the ass and there's hints of unresolved trauma everywhere.
ps: the thought wrote itself.
-
"Welcome to Naples Hot Coffee, what can I get for you?" Andrey called listlessly over the counter. It was five in the morning, sue him. The only reason he took this shift was because it paid well.
"A better attitude, that's what."
Andrey glared at the unjustifiably pit together customer's polished black shoes. Ugh, white collar folk.
Andrey's mind would later register that white collar folk generally never frequented his part of town and that this gentleman was an actual anomaly. At the moment, though, he was preoccupied with being annoyed by the prick's pompous air.
"I'll just get you a coffee as black as your soul, then." Andrey decided huffily. Sofia would probably kill him for taking that tone with a potential customer, but hey, what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her.
"Wonderful. I was just going to order that anyway."
Andrey's head snapped up. The stranger was watching him with an infuriating curl in his lips, hair slicked back with an atrocious amount of hair gel.
"You're a monster."
The gentleman raised an eyebrow. "Just get me my coffee."
-
The next day, the gentleman arrived at the same time as the day before.
Andrey wrinkled his nose at him. "Plain black coffee again? No sugar or cream?"
"No, thank you." The gentleman seemed to be taking immense pleasure at how disgusted Andrey was by his choice of drink.
-
"Do I have a name to go with your demon spawn drink from hell?"
The gentleman's eyes twinkled. "Do you need one?"
-
"Andrey?"
"Yeah?" Andrey hollered in the general direction of Sofia's voice.
Sofia emerged from out back, a strangely frazzled look on her face. She didn't usually arrive so early in the morning, but she had to that day because the landlord Mario Ambrosini was coming to check her books in a couple minutes. Apparently they suspected her of underhanded dealings.
How underhanded a coffee shop could get, Andrey didn't even want to know. After all, this was a pretty shitty part town.
"Why were you snarking to Goncharov, Lo Straniero, the loan shark of the century's face?"
Andrey's neck turned so fast he might have gotten whiplash. "What?"
"Goncharov." Sofia said dryly. "You were criticising the mafia boss Goncharov's beverage preferences."
Andrey opened his mouth, closed it and then opened it again. No words came out.
The chiming of the shop door opening saved him from having to continue any part of that conversation.
-
The gentleman came for his heinous plain black coffee every damn day.
He never told Andrey his name. Andrey never dared ask again.
-
Naples Hot Coffee was located in a particularly crime-heavy part of town. It was also the part of town that Andrey happened to grow up in, so it wasn't really a big deal.
What was a big deal though, was the fact that the stranger he served coffee to every early morning was in fact, the boss of an extended mafia gang.
The same gang Andrey had been trying to outrun since his father slashed his own son's eye to prove his fealty to their ranks. (Or to prove that he could pay rent, whichever one suited.)
Andrey groaned, burying his face in his hands. He was so screwed.
-
Goncharov came the next day.
Andrey kept his head down, handed him his coffee and said nothing else.
-
"You know who I am." Goncharov said with a sip of his drink. It was the first time he'd ever lingered since Andrey found out who he was.
Andrey felt his hands shake. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Oh, quit acting." Goncharov rolled his eyes. "You've known since the start of last week. I was waiting for you to confront me about it, but you never did."
Andrey busied himself cleaning the already spotless coffee machine at the side counter. "Should I have?"
"I should have expected you to. You're Daddano's junior, aren't you?"
Andrey's hands stilled involuntarily. They couldn't move, and yet they were trembling.
He knew.
"Whatever it was my father owed you, I can pay you back, I just need a little more time-"
"He did owe me." Goncharov interrupted plainly. "You don't."
On that brilliantly unhelpful note, Goncharov turned on his heels without any more explanation and left Andrey gaping hopelessly after him.
-
A bombshell of a woman entered Naples Coffee Shop at the ungodly hour Goncharov usually did.
"What can I get for you, ma'am?"
She sized Andrey up with a single critical glance. Andrey felt oddly as if he were being put to some sort of test by those eyes alone.
"I see why he likes you." She said finally, and Andrey hated that he didn't have to ask to know who she was referring to.
Andrey cleared his throat. "Like might be a bit of a strong word."
"Oh," The woman fluffed up her coat and sent him a crude grin.
"Trust me, darling, he definitely likes you." She held out her well-manicured hand. "Katya Goncharova, pleased to be your acquaintance."
Andrey accepted her hand, bemused. "You're not here for coffee, are you?"
Katya smiled. "No, not really, but I could take one back for you."
"For me?" Andrey asked, even though he was already going through the motions of preparing Goncharov's disaster drink.
"Yes, darling," Katya was practically purring. Andrey was so glad there weren't any other customers around so early. "For you."
He all but shoved Goncharov's black coffee into her hands when he was done. Katya sashayed her way out of the shop with a cheshire grin and a reminder for him to mention her regards to Sofia. Her regards might have involved some filthy reference to getting down to bed late that night.
Andrey wondered again what sort of dealings Naples Hot Coffee really had with the underworld.
-
Andrey didn't really mean for the following words to be his first to Goncharov after a month's worth of radio silence and only Katya to pick up his morning drinks, but sleep-deprived Andrey didn't usually think things through.
"I've been told that you like me."
Goncharov stopped at the doorway. "Katya." He huffed.
Andrey went to the coffee machine, hiding a grin.
"Well, don't let it get to your head," Goncharov said gruffly, approaching the counter. "I'm just here for the coffee."
"The bitter as heck piece of shit you drink every morning?" Andrey commented. He didn’t really know where all this snarky courage was coming from. It just felt natural.
It felt like what Goncharov came to him for.
"Seriously, where do you find joy to live every day when you have to wake up to this -" Andrey slid the coffee towards Goncharov and took the money from him with his other hand. " - every morning?"
Goncharov took the cup, a considering lilt in his expression as his dark brown eyes flicked up and down Andrey's body as if they were physically stripping him bare. Andrey felt an unbidden shiver travel down his spine.
Goncharov's eyes came back up to meet his with mirth. "I don't know," He brought the cup up to his lips, practically leering as he said his next sentence. "I find plenty joy in this every day."
Okay, the way his eyes dropped specifically to Andrey's lips was absolutely intentional. Andrey felt his cheeks heat.
"See you tomorrow, Andrey Daddano."
With that, Andrey was left not for the first time gaping after Goncharov's sturdy broad back.
"Yeah," Andrey croaked, even though Goncharov was already long gone. "See you tomorrow."
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